


McHanzo Week 2016

by Farstrider



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, McHanzo Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:03:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farstrider/pseuds/Farstrider
Summary: McHanzo Week 2016 by ThreeHanzoMoon on Tumblr. A collection of shorts and stories using the prompt list for the ship appreciation week. My include use of the To Love A Sinner universe.DAY 1 — First TimeDAY 2 — Domestic LifeDAY 3 — Alternate UniverseDAY 4 — Role ReversalDAY 5 — Young LoveDAY 6 — Ultimate SwapDAY 7 — Holiday Season





	1. First Time - Just Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That moment when you realize the guy you've been pining over just might know exactly how you feel.

McHanzo Week 2016 Day 1

First Time

Just Human

 

 

 

He’d been in the Watchpoint for a week and sleep still eluded him after the last run Winston asked him to go on. Nasty business dealing with Talon and their goons. Worse seeing the state of affairs they left behind. He could complain about the jet lag or how he needed to do laundry but they had a schedule now with so many people and he missed his day. Maybe bitch about having to do dishes but really he just was distracting himself if he was honest.

Reaper had been there…

Been there to fight against, still knowing that voice even though it changed. Those orders, the taunts, the horrible puns. Sure Angela could patch him up right pretty after dealing with the Devil but shotgun shells still hurt. He hadn’t shared what he knew but he knew… knew what was under that mask because the only person who probably knew that creature better was the old man.

Yeah Jack wasn’t as good at hiding as he thought.

Head full of briar and steel wool thoughts McCree prowled the base in the small hours of the morning. Little things all week had set him off but he kept his cool. That’s what you did when you were who he was. Keep it cool on the outside, tell bad jokes, do very cowboy things, keep the crisis on the inside.

Maybe he was too good at keeping it on the inside. Angela didn’t ask, nor did Tracer or Lucio or even Genji who’d been on the mission as well. Reinheardt was too excited to be back in the field to notice. He had avoided dinner that evening with everyone, not quite feigning the headache after using the Deadeye. Everyone understood. Everyone told him to feel better.

Lord how he wish he did.

As Jesse walked past the commissary – the converted lunch room and conference space now turned into a dining / cooking / social area – he smelled coffee. A light was on in the kitchen and in the small sitting area full of scavenged couches and chairs around a rebuilt coffee table. Coffee sounded good to his brain so he shuffled in.

He caught sight of Hanzo sitting in a chair, book in his lap, mug of coffee steaming on a knee. He sat with his legs crossed, almost in lotus, hair tucked behind his ears rather than up in its usual tail. He looked oddly human like that, in sweats and a tank top. Not to say Hanzo Shimada wasn’t human but he sure as hell tried to pretend like he wasn’t.

Cold as the devil in July that man’s heart seemed to be. Damn shame man that pretty be that cold, Jesse thought.

He poured himself a mug of coffee, added the few lumps of sugar he was sure he needed too and hesitated on where to go. He could go invade Hanzo’s space but he sort of hesitated at that. He didn’t have the energy to do it, to try and be himself or to impose on what seemed to be Hanzo calm down time. It was also the ass end of the morning and…

“Are you all right, McCree?” Jesse shook with a start at the sudden sound of Hanzo’s voice. Deeper than he was used to and something other than his own internal dialogue.

“Is anyone all right at this hour?” He said it long before he let the words pass the filter part of his brain. Jesse winced at himself and sipped his coffee to try and hide what he said.

“In truth… no.” Hanzo bent a corner of the page he was on and closed the book. He set it in his lap and wrapped his fingers around the mug on his knee. Perfectly balanced, never fearing spilling hot liquid on anything. Poised, cold, perfect… “You look as if you have seen a ghost.”

“Damn…” Jesse sighed and flopped on one of the couches near Hanzo. He felt a slob compared to the elder Shimada even if they were fundamentally in the same thing. Sweat pants and for Jesse a t-shirt he didn’t even know what it said. He just grabbed it.

“Is that a yes or simply hoping one might not notice?” Hanzo prompted after a brief silence between them.

“Both? It’s been a weird ass week.” Jesse took another sip of coffee, noting to himself that this interaction was damn weird too.

“I believe it was you who mentioned after I arrived that we are all allowed to ‘not be ok’.” Hanzo reminded him, moving in his seat so his legs were bent beneath him, curled facing Jesse as he leaned on the arm of the couch he was on.

“I didn’t think you were listening.” Jesse glanced over to watch Hanzo shrug.

“Just because I show no outward interest does not mean I do not hear what you say. It simply took time to digest given the subject at the time.”

Genji.

Jesse shivered a little. It creeped into his overfull head that Hanzo knows this feeling. Seeing someone you were sure was dead not long ago suddenly return. Jealousy sparked in his chest as he nearly hugged his mug. Genji wanted Hanzo back in his life, to help his brother recover from a decade of guilt and self-hatred and isolation. He wanted something positive in his life for both of them.

What had Reyes wanted? Besides the obvious fill em full of lead he’d whispered about Jesse being a traitor. About how Jesse had left him. If he wanted to make it up to Reyes he should join him. Be back at his side. _Where you belong_.

“McCree?” Hanzo called and Jesse jumped again. “My apologies…”

“No no it’s fine just… lost in my head.” Jesse rubbed his face and let out a gusty sigh. “Sorry Hanzo.”

“At … what is it the “Ass end of the morning” there is no need for apologies.” Hanzo shook his head.

“Why you bein nice to me?” again his filter failed and he watched Hanzo turn a little pink then look away and down to his coffee.

“I… admit I have not done well since I arrived. I am… unused to people.” Hanzo confessed “You have been nothing but kind, as my brother reminds me, and I… feel we are not so different in some ways.”

Isolated. On the run. Chased by ghosts both real and not…

“We’re just human.” Jesse said with a shrug.

“We are… so it is ok to not be ok…and to be kind even if we are unaccustomed to it.”

Silence lapsed between them with only the occasional sound of them shifting or drinking coffee disturbing it. Jesse stared at his mug for a long time, hoping it’d have answers inside its chipped ceramic. He glanced up to find Hanzo regarding him, face gone soft in contemplation before he realized he was being watched in return.

Both turned a bit pink and Jesse rubbed the back of his head.

Just human… for the first time maybe Jesse believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are all kinds of firsts. I wanted to explore that moment when you first realize that the person you've been pining at might be just as human as you. May realize you're more than what you put up front too. That moment of 'oh shit he knows' and the relief afterwards of 'oh shit he knows'. You don't have to explain the fear or anger or any of it. They know. They get it. And in that moment a spark starts to burn that may lead to more. The door is open, the road is starting to become clear, and now we start.


	2. Day 2 - Domestic Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse is in dire need of doing laundry and Hanzo isn't used to cooking for more than himself. Why not trade chores? What could POSSIBLY go wrong? Oh right feelings.

McHanzo Week 2016 Day 2

Domestic Life

 

 

 

 

“You stink.” Jesse jumped a little at the coffee maker when Hanzo spoke. It was a more reasonable hour in the day two days later. No more insomnia at least on Jesse’s end. Hanzo seemed better rested too. It didn’t mean Jesse was any less jumpy.

“Pardon?” Jesse blinked and turned to face Hanzo, dressed in a sweatshirt and his hakama pants.

“You stink.” Hanzo repeated “When did you do laundry last?”

“Before the mission. Got four more days before it’s my turn.” Jesse explained. “I did it in the bathtub, ain’t that bad.”

Hanzo huffed again and stormed out only to return a moment later with an empty laundry basket. “Fill this. It is my day. I do not have much.” Jesse stood there a bit flabbergasted. “Include your blanket.”

“Hey now it ain’t no blanket.”

“It is filthy and caked in dirt. Include it.” Hanzo said “Your battle gear as well.”

“It’s gotta get washed careful now. It’s all wool and leather an…”

“I know how to do laundry.” Hanzo snipped “You are in need of it.”

“Why…?”

Hanzo tilted his head to the side and just looked Jesse up and down. “You ask?”

“I’ll trade you a chore, huh?” Jesse offered.

“It is my time to make a meal.” Hanzo replied. “I am unused to cooking for more than myself.”

“Fair trade then.” Jesse said and nodded. He half turned back to the coffee maker for a cup when Hanzo prodded him with the laundry basket again.

“Go give me your laundry.”

“What, now?” Jesse asked then winced. Yes now, Hanzo’s glare said and he shuffled off to go and get his things. He returned in what he’d worn the night they shared coffee – Sweat pants and a faded red shirt that simply said EXPENDABLE across the chest in cracking lettering. Hanzo plucked the basket from his hands without another word and was off down to the laundry space with most of what Jesse owned and a sour look on his face.

This of course left Jesse with cooking duty and there were a lot of people and palates to please. Thankfully Winston had installed a terminal in the kitchen space that had listed people’s preferences and of course had access to recipes. Sure he could throw together some hearty cowboy stew or something, maybe make taco stuff again or build your own burritos but today he was feeling… adventurous.

Maybe he hoped he could say thank you with food. Or maybe make Hanzo happy.

He immediately told that part of his mind to hush up and see what they had in the pantry. He had people to feed.

He lost himself in cooking, something he remembered from the old old long gone days that lived in the haze of his mind. Holding onto a floral skirt, watching big hands knead dough in the amber light of late afternoon. Sitting on the kitchen floor, grinding corn in the big old grinder he had to lean over to make it turn fully while tinny voices played on the radio. Face pressed to the oven waiting for the moment the bread would rise up and turn golden while fingers played in his hair. Learning to crack eggs and whip them up into stiff peaks to make delicious deserts and wearing more ingredients than intended. Soft laughter and happy singing.

Those strange sweet days he hadn’t remembered in years. Peppered now and then, as he added stock to a huge pot and fished for eggs to make noodles, with other memories. Cooking mac and cheese on a carburetor with hot dogs. Digging in a theater trash for popcorn before sneaking in. Eating fingerfulls of cold hash right out of the can. Learning what the fuck chicory was and why real coffee tasted wrong. The first time he bit Jack for grabbing a roll off his plate. ‘Food Territorial’ they called him. Gabe’s Tamales. Learning that shell fish and Jesse do not mix but damn Red Lobster’s cheddar biscuits were good.

He never noticed people filter in and out as he worked on making dinner. Never heard their voices as they called to him, complimented his cooking, or asked how things were. Most gave up once they noticed he didn’t answer. He only stopped when it felt right, when he felt done and stepped back to admire his work.

A hearty vegetable soup, thin sliced seasoned meat to toss into it as you pleased, cooking in the broth with hand cut noodles and a thick loaf of pull apart bread. He even took the time to brew some good iced tea though knew Tracer would be on his ass for using up so much of her breakfast tea. Taking nibbles here and there he barely felt hungry by the time it was done and just had to sit there and reduce. He cleaned without complaint for once, happy in his mind as briar thoughts or feelings he ought not to have seemed to slip on by.

Just yellow warm afternoons, flour on his hands, and a song on his lips.

“It smells wonderful in here.” The only voice that cut through the fog of his zen cooking was Hanzo’s as he returned, baskets in his arms. Jesse abandoned the pot full of tea for the moment to help him with it.

“Damn what’s all this?” Jesse arched a brow as he looked at way more stuff than he’d given Hanzo to begin with.

“I … apologize I may have entered your room to get your bedding.” Hanzo said and bowed. “Please forgive me for entering your personal space.”

“It… probably needed doing.” Jesse floundered with what to do “It ain’t nothing. Thank you Hanzo.” Jesse checked his basket of cloths. Even the leather was clean, brushed, and conditioned to keep sturdy and not fray or fail him. It felt softer too. His fingers found his Serape, the red wool vibrant once again and no less felted than the last time he washed it himself. No more dirt or blood stains marred the fabric. Something seemed odd to him and the fingers of his good hand found it. He had several large rips in the fabric he’d kept meaning to fix. No need it seemed. Small, precise, and tight stitching held the fabric together now. Only because he knew a rip or hole was there showed evidence of the damage. His eyes burned like they should have when chopping onions and he thought of Hanzo sitting in the laundry room with a sewing kit. Most of the Archer’s clothing was in good repair. Maybe he did it himself? Did he spend all this time, now that he was aware of the hour, fussing over thread and how to keep the wool from falling apart? This wasn’t some shitty job like Jesse would have done.

It took time. It took patience. Dare his heart even venture caring too?

Jesse turned to Hanzo and paused, thoughts flying out of his head at the sight. The Archer was poised at the pot of stew, a spoon in hand as he tasted it looking… as wistful as Jesse felt. That fragile moment when emotion bubbled up unexpectedly.

“Hanzo?” Jesse called and it was Hanzo’s turn to jump a little. He just smiled gently as he slowly stirred the pot of vegetables.

“My grandmother used to make something like this.” He confessed “All would be cooked in one pot in the winter time or we’d have shabushabu.”

“Sha what?”

“Shabushabu…” Hanzo saved his hands a little like swishing something in a pot. “Swish Swish, to cook meat in broth quickly by swirling it in hot broth. It was Genji’s favorite.”

“Seems you liked it too.”

“I like soup.” Hanzo shrugged and caught sight of the serape “I hope you will forgive my trying to repair your… not blanket.”

“Serape…and thank you. Poor ol thing needed a little love.”

Maybe he meant the Serape, or the stew, or both of them but the smile Hanzo had and the way Jesse’s heart skipped a beat told him maybe the archer had the same things in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always imagined Hanzo repairing his own clothing and getting good at it over the years because he needed to and it's in his nature to cook. I like the thought of Jesse losing himself to cooking because food is another way of saying you care and he doesn't have to be loud about it.


	3. Day 3- Alternative Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historical Inaccurate AU is Inaccurate I just wanted to do something vaguely in history please don't kill me just hear me out.

McHanzo Week 2016

DAY 3 — Alternate Universe

 

  _Off the coast of Japan, sometime during World War II  
_

 

 

They’d shot him down over the sea, plunging him into the battle lit waters and the deep thrum of his heart in his ears. Stars and Stripes what a fight. He barely remembered crawling out of the cockpit and the long, hard, cold swim to shore. The craggy rocks, like teeth, rose up to devour him and the chop from the battle threw him into them.

Be a pilot they said. Join the war. Be a hero. Jesse McCree was a damn fool to think that he’d be a hero let alone die like one.

He crawled onto black sands and flopped over onto driest he could find above the kelp line. The sky was still angry with the sounds and lights of battle. He could feel bullets in his body, the salt of the sea stinging at him, and the siren’s call of sleep. Who could sleep in this noise? He had to get up. He had to find something to get back into the water with. Back to the ship. Back to pickup and safety and whisky with Reyes over how stupid this whole night was. Like after they woke up to go on duty one night and avoided getting a bunk full of Kamekaze. Damn lucky fool they’d called him.

Damn fool and his stupid cowboy hat. Damn cowboy and his six gun. Damn left arm full of fire and unwilling to move.

He couldn’t be found on these shores.

God he never should have left home.

_Lord at least let me die in the light._

Sunlight burned his eyes as much as the sea scoured his throat. He didn’t even recall passing out. He could hear gulls calling and the shuffle of sand, the endless thump of the sea. Bleary eyed Jesse blinked the gray sky into focus before something moved into view. He felt something sharp prick his neck and he went really still.

A person, gender unknown, knelt at his side with some kind of knife to his throat. Black hair like raven’s wings framed their face as it fell around them. Curtains of night around moon bright skin and eyes bright like polished wood. Venom spilled from their lips… male… Japanese… gorgeous. The prettiest thing he’d ever seen. His heart bucked in his chest like a bronco.

“Least the lord… gave me something pretty… to look at f’ore I die.” Jesse smiled at the man above him who looked shocked at the statement. The knife pricked further, he felt blood. “Do it…just at least find my hat.”

The American was not awake long after his strange tirade and Hanzo sat back on his heels to watch. He should kill the bastard. Should not suffer the man to live. They were at war… but he watched the aircraft in the night sail into a shell meant to hit their home on the bluffs. The bomb would have gone into Genji’s room. Instead the fighter had gotten in the way, plunging the pilot into the sea. Just looking at his left arm and the shrapnel in it he knew they’d have to remove it. He rubbed a little above his right knee. He knew how bad shrapnel could get and the cost it demanded.

“My lord?” He felt his men approach more than heard them. Dragons stirring in his skin. No this man would live, they decreed. A life for a life.

“Bring him to the castle.” Hanzo stood and put his tanto away. He walked a few paces and picked up an odd item. Wide brimmed leather distorted by the sea and housing a small crab.

“My lord he is the enemy he should be brought to…”

“Do not make me repeat myself.” Hanzo only turned his head a little as he put the small fiddler back on the beach to scuttle into the waves. His men bowed their heads and lifted the American to bring him back up the hill. “See that he is tended to. If he dies by some hand not my own, you will share a worse fate.”

Slowly Hanzo followed up the hill, leaning on the cane he was given, until he returned to his horse. Sturdy and steady the beast waited for him to haul himself onto its back before they returned to the castle. Even crippled by the war he was a man to fear. He could no longer fly, wings and leg clipped, but he was still a dragon.

They all obeyed. Everyone within the walls of Shimada Castle obeyed. One did not defy a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Jesse loses an arm and Hanzo lost a leg and they really struggle with one another's existence and Jesse can't leave Shimada Castle but figures out neither can Hanzo so they live out the war and the years after keeping one another company and falling in love and Genji is totes their wing man.
> 
> Potential other AU ideas this could have been:  
> Centar / Mer AU - HorseMan Jesse meeting Sea Dragon Hanzo  
> World of Warcraft - 'Simnu A Shal Anore to you too darlin'  
> WWII - Internment camp guard falls for detainee and they escape after the war to Canada.  
> Pacific Rim - BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


	4. Day 4 - Roll Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roll Reversal - Jesse McCree is a damn mystery and doesn't have anything useful on the internet. Sombra hates mysteries and decides to find out who McCree is for herself...and gets a bit more than she bargained for.

DAY 4 — Role Reversal

 

(Inspired by the comic released before Christmas 2016)

 

 

 

Sombra prided herself in being able to find out anything about a person. Everyone was somewhere on the wire, no one lived cut off from it after all. Their entire society was so dependent on the digital how could anyone hide from her of all people?

Jesse J. McCree did up until this moment.

After trying to dig up files or anything on him for months she managed to find very little. Besides his arrest records, court documents, a few faked Ident docs, and all the bounties he was racking up he was a ghost. Oh sure he had his fame, everyone thought they’d seen the infamous outlaw, but he was more like a cryptid than anything else.

Elusive, inconclusive, and mysterious.

She hated mysteries.

Reaper had a beef of some sort with him she knew that. When she mentioned to her occasional partner / boss / overlord whatever that she was trying to find the connection between the outlaw and Overwatch’s dirty little secret he became enraged. He snarled at her, going all vapor like and getting the mask right into her face.

“McCree is Mine.” He hissed and she felt it in her soul.

What was interesting was the days following the incident he wavered between bouts of rage and deep sullenness. Dare she even think wistfulness always muttering about the ‘damn cowboy’ or ‘stupid punk’ with an air of agitated fondness. She never brought McCree up again to Reyes but she did ask Widowmaker.

“He is a fool.” She let out a sigh “A good shot but a dramatic imbecilic outlaw.”

Now with rumors of Overwatch trying to rebuild and Talon agents coming back full of lead she had some new leads on the mystery man. A man who could kill a dozen men with a six shooter without reloading. A thief who stole from thieves. A man who would break into a moving train to fight off Talon agents, spare and save lives, and then not bother trying to deny he ‘robbed’ a train. His most recent lead had him stopping a small gang of thugs only to return all the stolen goods but pocket whatever money they gang had on their persons.

“Nother Ol’ fashioned, if’in ya don’t mind.” She glanced up from her phone to the man on the other end of the empty bar. He’d been there since it’d opened, spoke quietly to the man behind the bar, and had been drinking up to even this hour. She thought he would have traveled a bit more incognito but nope. Cowboy hat that had seen better days tipped over a scruffy face that seemed allergic to a razor. Serape that was more of a security rag than something to keep him warm. Boots and chaps that looked a few dozen steps from falling apart and the most gaudy (and noisy) prosthetic she’d ever seen. He smoked like a chimney, drank like a drowning man, but unlike all the conversations and intel she had spoke to no one. People gave him a wide birth all day. He looked like a shabby movie extra, wrapped in red and gold. A man from a forgotten era maybe or just a little green short of a walking ugly sweater fit for the holidays.

Just exactly what she found but she couldn’t get any substance on him. What were his motivations? What of his past wasn’t shared? Just who was this cowboy?

The bar was growing quiet, the snow outside getting a bit heavier and she hadn’t gotten the guts to go and try to talk to him. Well not guts, she told herself, you observe your target first before getting close. You gotta know about him, learn all you can from watching and since he was a damn internet ghost that meant in person. He dodged cameras, used cash, didn’t even seem to have a digital device with him at all (that she could get access to anyway). He was easy to watch since he hadn’t left this establishment outside of closed hours for the last week, drinking Old Fashioneds and eating all the peanuts in range. She didn’t know where he went after, losing him almost instantly when he left the bar. He was a cowboy not a ghost how did you lose him?

The bell over the door chimed and a figure walked in, brushing snow from his shoulders. This face she knew though the look was new. The piercings, the haircut, the stylishly managed facial hair with the right amount of salt and pepper Hanzo Shimada cut a very suave figure in casual clothing. Maybe the traditional clothing this time of year was too cold or maybe he’d taken someone’s advice to try and look more modern. He she could find a little easier, knew his story, sorted as it was. Knew what he’d been up to, who he’d killed, who he’d spared, what money he had access to… but beyond seeing him with Overwatch now and then little else.

His prosthetics made little noise as he crossed the bar and sat on a stool on the other end of the corner McCree had been occupying for days. He set down a bag with a small box in it from a patisserie down the road.

“For you sir?” the bartender asked.

“Whisky, neat.” Sombra liked how he spoke, just enough accent to be attractive and alluring. He had style, he had grace, he could be convinced maybe to be a good ally if she could get the right leverage.

“Thought you said you didn’t like somethin’ so ‘unsophisticated’.” McCree muttered as he lifted his drink to his face behind the hat, not bothering to sit up from where he was slouched.

“I find I have acquired a taste for it.” Hanzo answered, holding his glass once it was put before him but not taking a sip. “One cannot stay in a rut forever. Not when there are new things waiting to be experienced.”

“Well good for you, expandin’ horizons an all that.” Jesse knocked back the rest of his drink. Sombra counted it as odd. Usually he nursed it until the water sat atop the alcohol about a finger from the bottom. She watched Hanzo trade glasses, his neat for the empty glass and continued to fiddle with it. “Figured you’d be with your brother?”

“We had differing opinions on how to spend the holiday.” Hanzo replied, watching Jesse nurse his drink. The bartender came over to make another and Hanzo waved him off, letting him take the empty glass. “He wished to enjoy the simple beauty of Nepal. I did not wish to freeze to death.”

“Look pretty cozy.” Jesse reached out to poke at Hanzo’s coat. “Nice duds.”

“And you are exactly as I left you.” Hanzo replied “I am not too surprised though.”

“Gotta maintain my appearance right?” Jesse said then laughed at his own joke, like he knew he looked like hell.

“Change is something you insisted I try.” Hanzo said taking the glass. When the bartender returned “Two waters please.”

“Pffft water.” Jesse scoffed but his drink was already gone and so was the man who would have brought him another.

“You have nearly pickled yourself. Water.” The archer insisted. When the two glasses slid down the bar he took one, gave Jesse the other than simply ordered him to “Drink.”

“Lord you’re still bossy as hell.” Jesse muttered as he sipped his water grudgingly.

“And you are exactly where I left you when you insisted I go and ‘find myself’.” Hanzo said and Sombra was interested again. “Jesse it has been months and all you have done is jumped from one bar to the next, robbing robbers and depleting Europe’s American whiskey supply.”

“And?” There’s an edge of defensiveness to his tone, posture hunching a bit more.

“There is more out there than this.”

“For you maybe.” Jesse downed his water and rose to leave. Hanzo’s arm snapped out, tugging him back into his seat and sliding the other glass of water to the gunslinger.

“Drink.” Hanzo insisted, brows furrowing into a glare.

“What do you want Hanzo?”

“The one thing I left behind that I do not wish to change.” Hanzo answered, not letting Jesse’s hand go. “You said you spoke to me when we met back in spring because you saw some of yourself in me. A man seeking redemption and a future. A man who knew the weight of lives taken and what life was like alone. Who knew the bitter bile of betrayal, both in action and as a victim. Who knows the dark waiting at night and the ache of limbs no longer there.”

Jesse said nothing, sitting back at the bar to drink; though his breathing was heavier for some reason.

Hanzo continued “You got under my skin, you spoke to me incessantly, you challenged me at every turn, you questioned everything and made me respond with more than just coldness and venom. You pushed me to become better, to rise above the mire I had made for myself. You reminded me what it felt like to be happy and then you told me to leave.”

“Figured you’d be happier out here, doing good, finding that redemption you wanted at your Brother’s side.”

“What is between Genji and I will take longer than a one sojourn.” Hanzo sighed “What happened to me will take longer than that too. It will for you as well.”

“Oh you been round Zenny too long.” Jesse shook his head, accidently slamming the water down too long. “You leave Ol’ Jesse out of this.”

“No.” Hanzo bit back and it shocked the cowboy with its ferocity. “You aided me because you knew exactly the place I was at. It is the place you still remain.”

“I am fine as I am.”

“Look me in the eye, Jesse James McCree, and tell me that.” Hanzo insisted, knocking Jesse’s hat up on his head to stop hiding his face. Jesse had no time to hide the deep pain on his face which turned into something between bitter and sad. “Look me in the eye and tell me you are fine as you are. That this is the life you want.”

“What I want don’t matter none. Never has.” Jesse snarled back. His eyes didn’t hold the snarl that marred his features.

“Why did you tell me to go?” Hanzo asked again. “The truth.”

They stare at one another for a few heavy breaths, wills clashing, Jesse’s jaw working like he’s trying to find the words to blow up at Hanzo with, to push him away, to make him back down.

“Everyone leaves at some point… easier if I make ya go or I leave…” His voice is hurt, it twists something even in Sombra’s chest. Jesse stands, throwing cash on the bar like he’s about to leave.

“And you could not walk away from me.” Hanzo’s voice is so soft she nearly misses it but it may as well have been the thunder to the lighting that shocked Jesse McCree still as stone at Hanzo’s side. “So you found something I wanted, some way to make me happy, so if I walked away from you it would hurt less knowing I was happy.”

Hanzo stood and gripped Jesse’s chin between his bow fingers, forcing the man to look at him. “I am happy. I am finding myself. Making the man I wish to be but I cannot be content knowing you pushed me out of the hole we were in and know you are still there.” Sombra can hear McCree make a fist in his left hand, it’s hard to see his eyes but his breath is coming heavy and faster. “I do not wish to walk the world knowing you are not with me. I am a bit insulted that you would not think I would not return to offer my hand to pull you out too.”

What Jesse says in a quiet and a bit choked voice she can’t catch but Hanzo lets his chin go to cup his cheek instead.

“You fear people will leave you. I tell you I will not. There are no good sunsets without you to ride beside me into. Sake tastes bitter without you there to fill my cup. I lay awake at night knowing your bed is colder without me in it. There is no future I wish to know that does not include you, as a friend, as a companion, as more than that if you still…”

Sombra nearly dropped her phone when McCree moved, wrapping one arm around Hanzo’s middle to pull him close, the other behind his neck. He lifted the archer up to kiss him so hard his hat fell off. She half expected Hanzo’s leg to pop, hell her’s would have if it had been her.

Damn.

She can’t hear what they say, only sees their lips moving as they brush noses, faces but a breath apart. Hanzo whispers something and Jesse’s body jerks and his face falters. Hanzo takes his hand again, threading their fingers as he speaks in hushed tones that seem to either sooth or upset Jesse because he bows his head and closes his eyes.

Sombra watches Hanzo pull McCree from the bar into the chilly night and only catches one bit of conversation between them before they round a corner. She rushes to follow and when she gets there… they are gone.

“Sometimes it’s the hero who needs the saving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roll Reversal - Jesse McCree has had a damn hard life and he's kept it pretty damn much to himself. The one person he chose to let in, chose to reach out to and try and help out of the same guilt ridden, worthless feeling mire he was in he went and left. At Jesse's insistence no less. Knowing that no one comes back for him if they do return (Jack, Ana, Gabriel ect) Jesse decides not to wait around and goes to get lost in as many bottles as he can. To me Jesse is the kind of guy who will help everyone but himself. He doesn't expect, need, and seemingly want anyone to try and help him either. He's fine. he can handle it. He has so far.
> 
> This does not sit well with Hanzo and he will not stand for it.
> 
> Pretty proud of this one. Thanks to everyone who have been leaving comments. I really deeply appreciate them.


End file.
